


You were the one to teach me how to use knives

by Obsessedwithfanfiction



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: And everyone is in love with Merlin fight me, But neither is everything magically fixed knowing she has a friend in the castle, Every single character in this show has sexual tension with all the others, F/M, Fix-It, If Merlin had told Morgana about magic but not that he had it, Lol I promise it makes sense, M/M, Merlin finds out about Balinor slightly earlier than canon, Morgana doesn't just suddenly become evil, Multi, Season 2 onwards rewrite, What if the Merlin writers were actually capable of continuity and emotional catharsis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28387470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessedwithfanfiction/pseuds/Obsessedwithfanfiction
Summary: Merlin chose to save Mordred against the dragon's advice. He should have made the same choice for Morgana. In which Merlin is more than a little fed up of old men and old dragons telling him what to do, and gives Morgana some hope. Maybe it won't change the dark path she's destined to walk down... Or perhaps in doing so, Merlin saves all of Albion from her wrath. Featuring the emotional catharsis and continuity we were denied in canon and a systematic re-writing of what could have been
Relationships: Gwen & Merlin (Merlin), Gwen & Morgana (Merlin), Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin & Morgana (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Morgana (Merlin)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 83





	1. The Nightmare Begins (Part One)

**Author's Note:**

> I have been obsessed with Merlin since I watched it when I was a kid. Over lockdown I made my younger brothers binge watch it for the first time and fell in love with it all over again. Of course, rightly, I was infuriated all over again about the ending, and from that comes this, my attempt at fixing canon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merlin decides to let Morgana in on one of his secrets instead of sending her to the druids

Merlin couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t exactly an unusual occurrence. When he first arrived in Camelot, it was the noise of the city that kept him awake. Or, more accurately, the lack of farm noise. Merlin had been falling asleep to the sound of cows mooing as they settled down for the night for 19 years. So that first week or so in Camelot? It was the silence. Now, what keeps Merlin awake, after witnessing countless innocent sorcerers be beheaded, a singing enchantress, a snake shield, an afanc, being poisoned, a griffin, a creepy beetle-obsessed madman, the first in what Merlin just knew was going to be a long line of Arthur getting magically enchanted into falling in love with some beautiful woman, having to decide between letting a child get murdered or ignoring the advice of an ancient dragon, an undead knight, losing Will, thinking he’d lost Arthur to some magical unicorn poison, killing people to stop them killing a King who would execute him in a second if he knew what he was, almost losing Arthur, his mother and Gaius during the Questing Beast fiasco (and the power that ran through him, that deadly, furious power that felt so… good), a raven-themed madman, and, just last week, foiling yet another assassin hell-bent on killing Arthur, it’s the nightmares that keep him awake now.

Nightmares have been on his mind during the day too, but not his own. He huffed and rolled out of bed, fed up of tossing and turning. He had meant to go to the dragon early the next morning instead of this late at night, but Merlin doesn’t think there’s currently a curfew in place. Probably. With all the stuff that Camelot has had to fend off in the last year and a bit since Merlin’s been here, it’s hard to keep track of when Camelot’s in lockdown or not. He was going to ask the dragon for the location of the druids. They could help Morgana and then Merlin wouldn’t have technically broken his promise to Gaius to keep her in the dark. When he got to the top of the passageway however, he couldn’t convince himself to go any further. Instead, the words kept swirling around in his head.

 _I'm scared, Merlin. I don't understand anything anymore. I need to know what's happening. Please._ Morgana’s begging, the usual no-nonsense woman distraught, practically on the verge of tears, won’t leave his mind. His feet stick, incapable of travelling further down the passage. Merlin’s nearing that verge himself. It’s too much, too much to expect of him. He’s not even yet of age, a year younger than Arthur but the fate of what feels like the entire world on his shoulders. Gaius helps, hell, even the dragon helps sometimes, but neither of them know what it’s like to bear this burden. To struggle, over and over again, to be kind where he wants to be furious, and furious where he wants to be kind. Would he be able to live with himself if Mordred did grow up to kill Arthur? Probably not. But he would be able to live with himself if he’d left Mordred to be caught and executed by Uther? Also no. And now, Gaius and the dragon want him to leave Morgana in that darkness? They want him to repay the woman that risked her reputation and even her life for him and his family, with betrayal?

Merlin had to believe the prophecies were real, had to believe that Arthur would make a better kingdom for those with magic. He couldn’t risk that prophecy for anyone, not even Morgana. The dragon said that Morgana had evil in her heart, that she would be the dark to Merlin’s light. Perhaps that will be true, perhaps Morgana will ruin him. But he knew that she had saved Uther instead of killing him, had forgiven him despite everything he had done. Not forgotten, no, she was not that kind of person. She’d forgiven him though, and Merlin didn’t think that sounded like evil. He thought, perhaps, that sounded like someone capable of the best kind of love. Why was he expected to judge her on her future actions? What if betraying her now, with his silence, with his lack of action, was what caused her to become evil?

The Merlin that turned away from the passageway and went up the stairs had been influenced by a single conversation, not that the man himself would ever know it. A single conversation that Merlin wasn’t even really a part of.

The conversation had happened months before, when a Lord that Merlin can barely remember the name of now had come to visit Uther. In another life, the Lord would be waylaid by snow for a couple of days, and the entirety of his trip would pass while Merlin and Arthur were on one of Arthur’s many hunting trips. In this one, he’d made it to the castle before Arthur’s hunting trip, and so it was Merlin who was serving Arthur wine at the Lord’s welcoming banquet. It had been a fairly boring evening, as Arthur had not been drinking nearly as much as Uther and his Lord, and so Merlin had not had much to do. In his clumsiness, he had tripped on his way towards Arthur, just a minor stumble, no wine even spilled, but the clatter of the jug as he kept it balanced drew the attention his way. The Lord had frowned at him, not in the same scowl-like way as Uther, nor in the exasperated (but fond) way Arthur did, but with confusion. He clicked his tongue a moment later, hands waving unsteadily.

“Uther, do you not think he looks like Balinor?” Uther, drunk enough to not be quite so curt but still, well, _Uther_ , straightened.

“The boy, Merlin?” Merlin froze, eyes downcast. “No I don’t see it. Besides, Balinor died in the first few months of the Great Purge, hunted down like the traitor he was.”

“Hmm, true, true.” The Lord had said placatingly. “The man was ever so much fun at a party though. Do you remember the time he enchanted you to-”

“It’s getting late.” Uther said, with finality. “And you’re getting old and much too drunk.” The Lord had chuckled and they had retired for the night. Merlin had gone through the motions of getting Arthur ready for bed in a bit of a shaken daze, not used to ever being noticed by Uther. He wasn’t actually sure Uther knew his name until tonight.

He’d gone back to his quarters with Gaius, who’d noticed immediately that he was looking a little off. “Is everything alright Merlin?”

“Yes, yes, fine. The Lord that Uther is entertaining tonight, he just made a strange comment, said I looked like a man they used to know. A sorcerer by the sounds of it, who was killed during the Great Purge.”

“Who?” Gaius said, worry lacing his tone, as it did every time magic was mentioned. Merlin knew why, had nightmares weekly about why, but it still cut some part of him, the way that magic was spoken of in whispers and fear even here.

“Balinor.”

“Balinor!” Gaius exclaimed, though still in hushed tones. He shook his head, turning away from Merlin’s curious eyes. “What did Uther say? Merlin, what did he say?”

“He said he couldn’t see it himself. Gaius what’s going on?” Gaius exhales in relief.

“Merlin you’re not to go near that Lord again, do you hear me? I’ll tell Arthur I need you urgently for apprentice tasks, until he’s gone.” Merlin was surprised by the fervour at which Gaius demanded this, used to his uncle pleading his case instead.

“Gaius, what are you talking about?”

Gaius shook his head again, mumbling under his breath. “I promised Hunith I would never speak of this… But you must understand the danger you’re in. Merlin, Uther cannot think that you are related to Balinor, or he’ll have you on the pyre before you can blink.” Merlin held up his hands placatingly.

“Alright Gaius, well that’s fine because I’m not related to this Balinor fellow, whoever he was. Uther said he died before I was born.”

“And that is how we must keep it. Uther must never know that Balinor could still be alive.”

“Gaius you’re not making any sense. Why did you make my mother any promises about this man I’ve never heard of?!”

“Merlin…” Gaius gripped Merlin’s shoulders, smiled sadly down at him. “Merlin, I have always treated you as if you were my son.” Merlin softened, a smile lighting his own face. “But that is not who you are. The reason the Lord thinks you look like Balinor is because he is your father.”

Merlin stumbled out of Gaius’ hold, smile dropping from his face. “My… My father? W- What-”

“Balinor was a Dragonlord. He could do a little magic too, but his main power came from his ability to talk to and tame dragons. As such, he had a title, here in Camelot, back before the Great Purge. If I remember correctly, he was a favourite of Queen Ygraine, Arthur’s mother. And then… After- After, I helped him escape. I sent him to my sister’s, despite the danger it put her in. Uther eventually located him, and sent knights to Ealdor to hunt him down. He fled, to protect your mother. Hunith… He has no idea you even exist Merlin. She didn’t find out she was pregnant until he was long gone.”

“Why did neither of you ever tell me this?!”

“It was too dangerous, and Hunith didn’t want to hurt you. Uther is of the opinion his knights were successful. If he’s alive, no-one knows where he is.”

“I had a right to know.” Merlin snarled, eyes welling up. “He was my _father_. I had a right to know.”

Merlin doesn’t consciously know that finding out who his father was- not long before, in another life, he would have found out anyway- is the reason he turned away from that passageway tonight, but that same feeling of righteousness, that dark empty pit inside of him that screams to find somewhere to belong, the one that is only sometimes quietened when he and Arthur work together to solve some quest (usually unbeknownst to Arthur), it gets louder when he thinks about how alone Morgana is, how terrified she is, and by the time he’s stood outside Morgana’s door, he knows exactly what he’s going to stay.

_Knock, knock._

The rap of his knuckles against the door is quiet, wary of the guards patrolling the castle. Still, he supposes he could simply pretend he was here to deliver another sleeping draught, and by the way Morgana’s face drops when she answers the door, that’s what she thinks too.

“Merlin, I told you I don’t want another remedy-”

“I’m not here with a sleeping draught. May I come in?” Morgana searches his face with her clever green eyes, but, though she is as beautiful as ever, Merlin is focused on the dark shadows under her eyes, the tremor in her hands.

She steps back to let him in and watches with trepidation as he closes the door behind himself, fastening the latch. “Merlin, what-”

“Morgana, what would you advise me to do, if I told you I had a secret that could help you, but doom everybody else? If I told you this secret would save you, but it would put everyone I care for in danger, my mother, Gaius, Gwen, Arthur, even you? That would definitely kill me. Could you understand that there are some things I cannot say that you could, because of the position you hold? Could you understand there are many times I have agreed with you and not been able to say so? Would you ask me to tell you my secrets anyway, knowing the risk?”

“I… No, Merlin. I wouldn’t ask that of you. Not to save myself. But I don’t understand-”

“My Lady, I know we are not the closest of our lot.” Merlin smiles wryly, thinking of the way Arthur had kissed Gwen, the way Gwen brought flowers for Morgana every day she could, the hours spent gossiping with Gwen in laundry, the _days_ spent mutually saving each other’s lives with Arthur. “And I know it is not appropriate to consider you a friend, probably not even appropriate for me to be here right now. But you risked your life for Camelot’s people, and you risked your life for Gwen’s father and you risked your life to come to the aid of my village. There are things I cannot tell you, for the reasons I have already stated. I hope, when you eventually learn them, you will forgive my secrecy in light of the consequences. But for all that you have done, and the goodness I know you have, I must tell you something, because I cannot stand for you to feel alone.” Merlin cleared his throat. “Morgana, I believe you. You know of what I speak. I’m sorry I did not say it before I was too scared. Because, Morgana, your protection here holds only as long as this is unknown. You are already so vocal about the injustices you perceive. You are too sympathetic already. Too suspicious. Do you understand?”

“You did not say it before… Because you believed I was safer in ignorance?”

“Yes. I still believe you are. But I realised I feared more for what feeling alone would do to you than what could happen to you if anyone found out.”

“I need to hear you say it Merlin. Please. It is driving me mad.”

“Morgana,” Merlin takes one of her trembling hands and clasps it in both of his, “I believe you have magic.” Morgana shudders, equal parts relieved and terrified, eyelashes wet with tears. She takes several deep breaths, and then squeezes his hand and takes hers back, looking steadier than she has in days.

“Alright, now what?”

“First of all, I will keep your secret. I won’t betray your trust.”

“I know, Merlin.”

“Then I have another thing to tell you, so I can prove that I trust you in return.” Merlin cannot give her the core of him, not when it could be the death of Arthur. But he can tell her something that should only harm him. “My father was magic. He was born with it, just like you. And through him… I know enough. I can help you control it. Train you. If you’d like.”

“I’ve never heard you talk about your father, I guess I know why now.” Morgana says, eventually. “Is he…?” Merlin shakes his head.

“Uther.” He says, softly, and that’s all it takes. Morgana’s eyes blaze with a fire he knows is not aimed at him.

“Of course.” She says, scornful. Abruptly, she softens. “I’m sorry Merlin.”

“Thank you.”

“I want to learn how to stop the nightmares. So, if you’re sure, I’ll gladly accept your tutelage.”

“There are limits to what I can teach you, I don’t know many spells. You could perhaps learn more going to the druids. But I fear if you were suddenly to disappear, Uther would not think you had left of your own accord.”

“And then he would take it out on the druids.” Morgana nods. “I won’t put them in danger. All I really need to know is enough to stop the dreams. Anything else would be more dangerous than sensible, with the court as it is.”

“I will not be able to teach you how to completely stop the visions, Morgana. If I’m right, you’re a Seer. The visions shouldn’t keep you from sleeping, however. I think because your magic is pent up, it’s escaping into your dreams. If you can get rid of the excess magic, you should be able to get through a night’s sleep.”

“What do you mean, a Seer?”

“Not all your dreams,” Merlin cautions, “but some of them; they’re prophetic. Do you remember when you dreamed of Sophia drowning Arthur?”

Morgana frowns, puzzled. “Yes, but I was wrong; Arthur became besotted with her and you managed to talk him out of it.” Merlin smirks, but it fades as he remembers the way Arthur had sunk into the lake, out of Merlin’s reach.

“Not quite. Her father had enchanted him to become enamoured with her. Sophia was mostly innocent,” _but you still killed her Merlin_ , “but she did try to drown him. The heart of a mortal prince is a very potent ingredient in some dark magic spells. I-” Merlin coughs, can’t keep eye contact with her. “I killed her father. I didn’t tell Arthur the plot was magical in nature. Didn’t want him trying to track down Sophia.”

Morgana stares at him with appraising eyes. “You’ve saved him more often than he knows, haven’t you?” Merlin laughs, without a trace of humour.

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t deserve you.”

“He will.” Merlin says, with all confidence. “Arthur will be the greatest king the world has ever known.”

“You truly believe that.”

“I do.” Merlin smiles at her disbelief. “Arthur is not his father.”

“Perhaps not.”

“I already think, if Arthur became the king tomorrow, magical people would only be executed if they did something bad with it. I hope he has the chance to see magic be used for good. It is difficult for him to have to relearn everything he’s been taught, especially when magic has been used against him so many times.”

“Not as difficult as it is to live in constant fear of being killed for something you can’t control.” Morgana says, hotly. Merlin inclines his head.

“No. That’s true.”

Morgana shakes her body a little, resetting herself. When she straightens, she’s back, for a moment, to the Morgana he first met, proud and strong and fierce. He can’t help but grin broadly at the sight of her. “Enough about Arthur. When do we start with my training?”


	2. The Nightmare Begins (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana has dinner with Uther, Merlin comes up with a plan to start their magic training and Arthur becomes increasingly concerned about Merlin and Morgana's relationship...

Merlin had told Morgana that he needed a while to gather the materials for her training- which translated in his head to working out how on earth he was going to fit this into his crazy schedule and help Morgana without revealing his own magic- and bade her goodnight. The smile she had given him as he left, the way her gentle accent curled around the words _thank you_ , made him even surer that he had made the right decision. The terror that Morgana could betray him, that even though they technically could both take each other down, no-one would believe him and everyone would believe her, was an easier weight to bear than the guilt at letting his friend suffer. He thinks Arthur might break him out of the dungeons anyway. Exile him, probably, which wouldn’t bode well for their shared destiny, but at least he’d live. Merlin really needed to work on learning that teleportation spell, that could get him out of an execution if it looked like Uther was going to hack him to bits imminently.

He slept easy for the first time in a while, though that made it all the more difficult to get up in the morning. Still, he made it to Arthur’s bedchambers before the Prince had woken up, though Merlin did not think it was because he was on time. Arthur had been up late looking for the sorcerer who might have started the fire in Morgana’s rooms the night before, on his father’s orders. Which was another problem Merlin needed to resolve.

“Good morning Sire!” Merlin yells, cheerfully, throwing open the curtains. Arthur grumbles, sleepily pulling the covers over his eyes. “Breakfast is on the table!”

Unlike usual, once Arthur has resigned himself to the waking world, he gets up and dressed fast enough that Merlin doesn’t even have chance to tease him about not being able to dress himself. He wolfs down his breakfast as Merlin quietly gathers the laundry, not wanting to interrupt Arthur’s focus, especially as it looks like Arthur wouldn’t be in the mood to banter back with him.

“I need to report with my father and then rendezvous with Sir Leon. Do your usual cleaning duties in here.” Arthur says, not even sparing Merlin a look, merely a distracted wave of his hand to encompass that by ‘here’ he means his rooms. He strides out the door, and doesn’t return for a very dull hour in which Merlin, for once, actually does all of his duties and is left anxiously polishing Arthur’s sword just for something to do with his hands. What if someone suspects someone he knows of magic? Uther will not listen to anyone when it comes to magic as it is, let alone when Morgana’s life is in apparent danger. As ever, neighbourly feuds will have everyone accusing each other of witchcraft in the lower town, and Merlin can definitely imagine Uther deciding to execute anyone with even a sniff of suspicion just to be sure. He’s not worried that someone will accuse Morgana of starting the fire herself; her position in court prevents that, but Gwen is only recently starting to escape the shadow of sorcery that followed her since her father’s death, and if she comes under suspicion again he doubts even the combined efforts of Arthur and Morgana could stop Uther’s wrath.

Eventually, Arthur comes back, Leon in tow, the both of them already mid-conversation.

“Are you sure this is all of them?” Asks Arthur, unravelling a scroll.

“Names and last known dwelling places.” Confirms Leon.

“My father suspects the fire was started by sorcery.”

“Indeed, sire. I’ve included the details of everyone we suspect of consorting with sorcerers, witches or druids.”

Arthur purses his lips. “Gather the men. We’ll arrest them immediately.” Leon nods and leaves, and for the first time that day Arthur finally looks at Merlin. “I thought I told you to do that yesterday.” Arthur says, pointedly.

“I didn’t have time.” Merlin considers, for a bizarre moment, telling the truth of _I was too busy having an emotional crisis of whether to acknowledge the Lady Morgana’s magic or not considering it’s possible that she will ruin our destiny_ but swallows it down. He searches for a chore he could have done out of Arthur’s sight. “I was cleaning the stables.”

“That’s strange, because a little bird told me you were somewhere else.” Arthur turns away from Merlin to shrug off his jacket, and Merlin makes use of his distraction to unroll the scroll with his magic to try and scan the list of names, and make sure Gwen’s wasn’t on it. Not that Merlin thinks Arthur would have given the order to arrest them if hers was on the list, but it’s possible he hadn’t had a chance to look at it properly himself yet.

“Mucking out the stables is strange and a talking bird isn’t?” Merlin quips, distractedly, trying to find the letter G upside down.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, turning back before Merlin can finish, “what have we said about you trying to be funny?”

“I shouldn’t.” Merlin says, with what he hopes is a sheepish smile, but has a feeling it’s coming across more as cheeky. Arthur raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement, and turns back again to fiddle with his belt. Merlin once more attempts to read the scroll, but is distracted by Arthur’s next words.

“So, where are my flowers?”

“Your flowers?” Merlin repeats, barely registering his own words.

“I heard _Morgana_ got some.” Arthur says, with strange emphasis on Morgana. He pulls back on his red jacket and looks expectantly at Merlin who quickly lets the scroll roll shut. “I assumed you were putting them in all the rooms.” Merlin had honestly completely forgotten about the flowers he’d taken up to her the day before, his guilt driving him to do at least a small act of kindness for his friend. He also knows that Arthur knows he was doing nothing of the kind. Gods curse it, he thought he’d gotten away with it, hiding the flowers in his waistband. Sometimes Arthur’s perceptiveness makes Merlin very, very worried for his secrets. Other times… Arthur is as dense as a brick wall. “Or is she the only one to receive a token of your affections?”

“Yes.” Merlin says decisively, and then realises what he’s just agreed to and quickly backtracks as Arthur develops a delighted grin. “Uh, no, no, no. Uh, what? It’s not a token of anything! Affection or otherwise.” It really hadn’t been. Merlin was aware of how beautiful Morgana was, he had _eyes_ , but he was no fool. He had no time for romantic thoughts of any kind, and even if he did, he’s never even consciously considered Morgana in that regard. It was so far from the realm of possibility… And when his reality included a talking dragon on a regular basis, that was a serious statement to make.

“I see.” Arthur says, his tone tinted with smugness, but Merlin was still preoccupied trying to see the list to take note of it. “So why were you trying to hide them from me yesterday?”

“I wasn’t…” Merlin says, paying to attention. “I mean, I was. I just didn’t want you to get the wrong impression.” Didn’t want to have to deal with Arthur calling him names when he had lots of errands to run.

“What’s the right impression?” Arthur says, tone a little dangerous, but Merlin doesn’t pick up on it. He’s almost made it to the bottom of the list without seeing Gwen’s name.

“That I was trying to cheer her up after the fire.”

“Pick them yourself?” Arthur inquires, spinning so fast Merlin barely has a chance to let the scroll close again. It shuts with such force that it drops to the ground, but thankfully Merlin finished reading, and Gwen definitely wasn’t on that list.

“Maybe.” Merlin beams, trying to look as innocent as possible, and far away from the scroll. His mind finally catches up with the conversation he’s been having, and he can’t help the defensiveness that seeps into his tone. “I was only trying to be nice.”

Arthur nods, but his eyes clearly say he doesn’t believe him. After a moment, though, all he says is, “Sword.” Merlin hurriedly hands it over. “That’ll be all.” Merlin nods and goes around the table to leave, mind already racing about what to do with Morgana. He’s glad to know Gwen is safe, but it still doesn’t sit right in his stomach, knowing innocent people are about to be detained for a crime that didn’t happen.

Merlin furiously scrubs at Gaius’ leech tank, desperately trying to think of some way to talk to Morgana privately that wouldn’t be horribly inappropriate. He thinks he’s got an idea about how to circumnavigate the issue of getting to her chambers for training, but it’s risky, and he has no idea what to do about all the people being arrested. Luckily, before he has to do anything, Morgana comes to Gaius’ chambers instead. Merlin inclines his head at her, not being able to do much else when he’s up to his elbows in leech tank gunk. “My lady.” Merlin doesn’t know whether she managed to sleep last night, but she’s looking remarkably better anyway, even though her expression is worried.

“Merlin, is Gaius here?” Merlin shakes his head.

“No, one of the prisoners was badly injured when the guards arrested them so he’s tending to them in the cells.” Morgana nudges the door to behind herself, clasping her hands in front of her stomach.

“If,” she says, hesitantly, “if I was right and it was me who started the fire, then it’s my fault all these innocent people are being arrested. Uther will never let all of them go, even if they all have alibis. It would look weak.”

“I’ve been wracking my brain all day but I’m not sure there’s anything you can do, not without risking yourself. And even if you confessed, I’m sure he would think you had been enchanted.”

“Merlin, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if someone got hurt because of me- Gods, someone else has already been hurt because of me-” She cuts herself off, distraught, and Merlin aches to comfort her but there’s nothing he can do.

“Can you think of any way that Uther might be convinced? You know him better than probably anyone except Arthur.” Morgana shakes her head.

“The only way he’d change his mind is if it looked stronger for him to not do this which-” She cuts herself off, eyes widening.

“My lady? What is it?”

“What if… I have an idea.” Before Merlin can say anything, Morgana’s sweeping back out of the rooms again. “Leave it to me!” She calls, without turning around, and Merlin has no choice but to trust her.

Morgana knows she looks stunning as she floats into the great hall on satin-clad feet. There are many ways to defend oneself, and much as she might prefer a sword, Morgana’s become an expert in using her words and looks to her advantage too. She hasn’t felt particularly beautiful lately, her exhaustion dampening her spirit as much as her physical appearance, but the hope- and fear- that Merlin has ignited in her stomach has reinvigorated her. She feels sick with terror, but with the hope has come some perspective, and there’s parts of Merlin’s speech to her last night that have given her pause. The situation she is in is precarious, but if she could have magic without having learnt it, then there must be other people like her, and they have none of the privilege she does. Of course, being trapped right under Uther’s nose is not something many have to survive, but she knows that unless Uther saw her using magic with his own eyes, there’s little chance anyone could throw an accusation at her that’d he’d believe, or even tolerate. Half the town could know she had magic and it still wouldn’t get back to Uther, not when everyone knows they’d be risking their own skin to try and get her.

Uther smiles broadly as she comes to sit at the dinner table, sweeping his arms wide. “Morgana! I didn’t know you would be joining me tonight.” She’s skipped out on many meals in the last few weeks, having no appetite. She doesn’t really have it back yet, but she has a mission here tonight that has nothing to do with food.

“It’s been too long, my Lord.” She says, smiling back. There’s been a tension between them since Gwen’s father’s death, a tension that has not dissipated despite the length of time. Morgana knows that tension will never ease. She may have found enough goodness in him, enough affection- _enough weakness_ that dark voice in her head whispers- for him to not let Tauren and his band of sorcerers murder him outright, but she had held Gwen close as she’d cried for too many nights to ever forget. In the long hours that she lies awake, too terrified of her dreams to let herself fall asleep, Morgana tries to weigh up how much of her decision to stop Tauren was based on her affection for the man who’d taken her in and raised her since she was a little girl, and how much of it was realisation that the plan was not well thought out, was too messy. She’d been so blinded by her rage that she’d let it get the better of her considerable intellect. If she’d let them kill him, not only would she have been rewarding the man who was partially responsible for Tom’s death, she also might have led to the downfall of the whole of Camelot. Though she is a lot more disparaging of Arthur than Merlin is- and she does truly marvel at how Merlin, despite spending more time in Arthur’s company than anyone else, and spending most of that time insulting Arthur and pointing out all his flaws, believes that Arthur is going to make a great king- she still doesn’t wish him harm. She knows he is a better man than Uther, always has been.

( _She’d found him, shaking, hiding in an alcove of one of the turrets, when he was fourteen. They’d been at an awkward phase in their relationship; her, haughty and more aware of the year she had on him than ever before, cross with him for the ways Uther was increasing Arthur’s combat lessons while hers languished because she couldn’t be cross with Uther, beginning to realise many members of the court expected the two of them to marry when they were both of age and hating how little control she had of her own future, him, arrogant and headstrong, tactless and defensive when she mocked his bully-like behaviour, all the while knowing most of it was bluster to hide how terrified he was of disappointing his father. There had been a lot of whispers in the last few days, odd snippets she couldn’t quite put together, conversations she knew she was being left out of. Her temper had flared, and spitefully she hadn’t wished Arthur luck, even though she knew he was beyond nervous about leading his first raid._

_The raid had been back for hours though, and she’d been there on the steps to greet him in, heard the way Uther had- in an extremely rare show of fatherly affection- clapped Arthur on the shoulder and said he was proud of him. Arthur should have been ecstatic. Instead he was cowering- and Arthur never cowered- his pale face looking torn between being sick and bursting into tears. She’d grasped his hands, and it was like when they were children again and she’d helped him back to the castle when he’d fallen off his horse and broken his ankle- lied for him and said the horse had been spooked instead of Arthur still not being confident in his riding yet- and asked him what was wrong. He’d told her everything, told her that Uther had described the druid camp as if it was full of evil sorcerers dancing around cauldrons practicing dark magic under a blood moon, but when he got there and his men had attacked he’d only heard terrified screams, that of all the druids there only a few had had a chance to use their magic to defend themselves and not a single one of his men had come home with more than a sore head, that there had been women and children and though he’d tried to get his men to stop, his father’s knights had shown no mercy, and that it was not a battle but a slaughter._

_Morgana had cradled him to her, fury burning hotly in her chest, and despite all her attempts in the last few years to be taken seriously, suddenly aware that the both of them were still just children, and they shouldn’t have to go through this. Of course, she was still in the denial phase then, sure the blame for this slaughter should be on the men Arthur had taken with him and not the King they served. Neither Morgana nor Arthur ever spoke of that night again, but Arthur never went on another raid of the druid camps, and that spark of fury ignited in Morgana’s chest never burnt out._ )

“Are you recovered from your scare the other night? I assure you, we have all the possible people associated with the attempt locked up, and we will find who was responsible.”

“I am fine, thank you, my Lord, but I actually wanted to talk to you about that, if you would hear me out?” Morgana waves off the maid who comes to pour her wine, and Uther gestures for her to go ahead, relaxing back in his chair but still giving her his full attention. She hates the way a part of her still trills happily at knowing she has his attention and ear, a position many have coveted and few have earned. Though he rarely, rarely agrees with her, or takes her words on board, not like he does with Gaius’ advice or even some of Arthur’s military strategies, she can push him a lot further than anyone else before he snaps at her, hear her out on a topic he wouldn’t even let Arthur broach even if nothing comes of it. “Obviously, the most likely cause of the fire was sorcery.” His eyebrow quirks a little in surprise; she’d usually the first to suggest it wasn’t, but he nods in approval. “But there is a small chance it _was_ the storm or the attacker started the fire naturally.” She bulls on before he can protest. “And it seems to me that a sorcerer who is proficient enough to have started the fire from inside the castle and escape before I alerted the guards, is unlikely to be found. If any of the people you’ve brought in have information, the information they have is probably already useless. If we actually want a chance at catching the sorcerer, we need to let them believe they got away with it. We now have a comprehensive list of people suspected to know something about sorcerers, why not keep tabs on them? Keep listening? We might end up reeling in far bigger fish.”

“And leave you vulnerable?”

“Am I not more vulnerable to the sorcerer if we have no way of identifying them? And besides, if it was a non-magical attack, we’ll be lulling them into a false sense of security too. And if it was an accident, there’s no harm done.”

“I can’t just let them all go, Morgana. It would look like I had given up on finding the culprit.”

“Can’t you release a statement that Arthur or the knights killed the sorcerer responsible in a scuffle? You could even say they found them based on information given by the prisoners, to stir up some mistrust between them all.”

Uther hums, hand on his chin. “It’s an interesting proposition. I will see if the guards manage to elucidate any useful information from them first, but you might be onto something in making them paranoid. They’re more likely to slip up and we may end up capturing more sorcerers. I will consider it. Now onto more pleasant manners?”

“Gaius.” Merlin greets, not knowing on the other side of the castle Morgana is suffering through a meal with her adoptive father in order rescue lives that are only on the line because of her.

Gaius blinks suspiciously at Merlin, glancing around his workroom as he closes the door behind himself and sets his bag of herbs down on the desk. His gaze catches on the leech tank and his eyes become even more narrowed. “Merlin.” He replies. “Why is it that I’m more surprised than pleased that you appear to have done everything I asked you to?”

“Arthur’s been busy all day arresting people and didn’t set me much to do. It had to happen eventually.” Merlin smiles, attempting to patch over the awkward tension that has lingered between them for the past couple of days after Gaius forbade Merlin from talking to Morgana. “Also, I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Gaius frowns, but just starts over to the cauldron to start their food. “What is it?”

“You said that it’s too dangerous to talk to Morgana-”

“Merlin-” Gaius warns, but Merlin holds his hands up.

“But your sleeping draughts clearly aren’t working for her anymore, and innocent people are being interrogated because of her. I’ve seen you making those draughts enough times, Gaius, I know you can’t risk increasing the concentration anymore without putting her into a coma.”

“I have always done my best for Morgana-”

“I looked up some alternative remedies.”

“Alternative remedies? Merlin, I assure you, if there was anything more science could do I would know about it-”

“I know.”

“Merlin you had better not be suggesting a magical remedy-”

“I’m not, for god’s sake would you just listen to me for once!” Merlin yells, and Gaius drops the ladle into the cauldron in surprise. “You’ve forbade me from talking to Morgana and it’s like you don’t care about the way it’s tearing me into pieces to watch her get more and more afraid. I know exactly what she’s feeling-”

“Yours and Morgana’s situations are very different Merlin-”

“Yes, because she has no-one and I have you!” Merlin breathes heavily, trying to soften. “Everything I know that is good and light about magic I learnt from _you_ Gaius. I was so _lonely_ before I came here, spent every day terrified that Cenred’s soldiers were going to knock down the door and drag me away because I hadn’t been careful enough. I’m still living in fear but at least I can talk to someone who understands it.” He huffs a humourless laugh. “Even you don’t know what it’s like to be born with magic, to have no control. It took me years before my magic stopped reacting every time I got spooked, and I still do it non-verbally half the time. Morgana’s magic is coming out because she’s _scared_.”

“Merlin, she is safer in ignorance-” Merlin holds up a hand.

“I disagree with you but that’s not what I’m saying. I was looking into meditation rituals.”

“Meditation rituals?” Gaius is stopped-short, not expecting this at all.

“Perhaps if she can calm her mind before she goes to sleep, her magic won’t flare up. There are chants or incense candles,” at Gaius’ arched eyebrow Merlin swiftly corrects, “though of course I won’t suggest those for a while-”

“They all sound like utter codswallop Merlin. I thought, as a physician’s apprentice, you’d know better to buy into these contrived rituals-”

“I don’t; but what if _she_ does? Placebo effect, Gaius. We both know that what’s causing her nightmares isn’t something you can treat. It has to come from her. There’s nothing to lose; there’s no danger, and nothing else you can suggest to help her. It could be in conjecture with her potions.” Gaius still doesn’t seem confessed. “ _Please_ , Gaius. Please let me do _something_ to help her.”

Gaius releases a gusty sigh. “I’m glad you’ve looked into something non-dangerous to help her. And… You are right that I can’t treat her with anything stronger than what I’m already giving her.” He points an imperious finger at Merlin. “But I don’t think this will work. And besides, I don’t have time to be traipsing through the castle each night to perform some elaborate ritual.”

“No, but _I_ will already be on that side of the castle after getting Arthur ready for bed.”

“ _You_ want to do it?”

Merlin grins cheekily. “You can count as my first apprentice-physician job. You just have to get Uther to approve it.”

Gaius huffs again. “Fine.” He says shortly. “But that’s the last I want to hear of this, Merlin. If it doesn’t work, that’s it.” He warns and Merlin’s grin widens.

“Yes! Thank you, Gaius!”

“Don’t thank me yet.” He grumbles. “Uther still has to approve it.”

There are more guards than ever at the staircase up to Morgana’s rooms, but, despite the fact that Merlin isn’t even holding a potion, they accept the excuse that he’s delivering Morgana’s usual sleeping draught without question. He hurriedly knocks on the door, and Morgana answers dressed in emerald green, her eyes light with something he hasn’t seen in a long time on her face.

“Merlin.” She smiles lightly, small but there, and Merlin’s stomach clenches at the thought he’s put it there. He should have talked to her earlier. He could have spared her some sleeplessness. He can’t imagine why he would ever regret this. She opens the door wider to let him in, and he slips through the gap with a bow of his head.

“My lady.” He waits until the door closes. “I heard the prisoners were being released tomorrow. Should I assume you have something to do with it?”

Morgana’s smile widens, eyes sparking with a hint of mischief. “Yes. But…” Her face falls. “It comes at the price of increased guards. I convinced Uther that he’d gain more information from the prisoners by spying on them than interrogating them. Hopefully with enough time he’ll have to come to the conclusion that there was no sorcerer who attacked me. In the meantime, I’m being heavily watched. I’m not sure when on earth we’d get a chance to…” She flicks wary eyes at the door. “ _Talk_.” She finishes, word inlaid with meaning.

“I might have solved that problem.” Merlin says. “Gaius is going to approach the king about a new remedy suggestion he has for you; meditation rituals. As Gaius doesn’t have time to be traipsing over here every night and I’m close by coming from Arthur’s rooms anyway…” Merlin shrugs. “So long as the meditation seems to work,” he says, with a meaningful eyebrow raise, “I’ll be permitted to help you clear your mind before bed each night, when I’m not on a mission with Arthur of course.”

Morgana’s eyes well up. “Gods, Merlin… Thank you.” She shudders through a sigh. “I… I was always taught that magic was evil. That it corrupts the soul.”

“Uther taught you that.” Merlin says, gently. “Just because he decreed it, doesn’t make it so. Magic is a tool. It has the potential for great darkness. But it also has the potential for such light.”

“You… You don’t look at me as though I am a monster.”

“My lady- I never will. As long as you can promise me you will only use your magic for good-”

“I promise, Merlin. Maybe- Maybe one day magic will be seen primarily as a force for good.” Merlin swallows, can’t meet her eyes because he wants it so badly himself. He thinks, for a split second, about telling her about his magic, wavers on the edge, but can’t quite make himself teeter over.

“It’s good to have you back.” He says, instead, voice a little hoarse. She doesn’t ask him to explain what he means when she hasn’t left the castle, because she knows he’s referring more to her joy than anything else. She reopens the door for him.

“Thank you, Merlin.” He leaves, smiling. “Sleep well.”

Arthur had known something was up with Merlin when he’d been humming as he folded Arthur’s laundry and not saying a word of complaint. He let Merlin’s distracted and cheery behaviour go, only to follow him when he left Arthur’s chambers. When he didn’t turn down the corridor to go back to Gaius’, Arthur’s feet quickened, stealthily tracking him through the corridors. Honestly, it was a bit disconcerting how easy it was for Arthur to avoid the scrutiny of the guards; he really needed to train them to look around. Were their helmets obscuring their peripheral vision? Perhaps inside it would be better for them not to wear the full metal ones. He’s distracted enough by these thoughts that it takes him a moment to recognise the staircase Merlin’s headed up; to Morgana’s rooms.

He overhears the brief conversation with the guards and, to be fair to them, he himself would not think anything were remiss… If he didn’t know Merlin had come directly from Arthur’s chambers and hadn’t picked up any sleeping draughts on the way. He waits for a couple of minutes, but when Merlin still doesn’t come back down, he strolls out and dismisses the guards at the end of Morgana’s staircase to wait for Merlin himself.

When he had confronted Merlin about the flowers, he’d mostly been teasing him, but now his concern is genuine. He casts his mind back, trying to work out whether he had ever noticed anything between the woman he regarded as a sister and his manservant, but he realises to some chagrin that Arthur had always been preoccupied with Guinevere whenever the four of them were out together, and he couldn’t recall anything of the sort. Anxiety had a strange way of stretching time, and by the time Merlin finally comes back down the staircase, dopey smile on his face, Arthur’s convinced he’s been in Morgana’s rooms- unchaperoned- for entirely too long.

“This has to stop.” Arthur says, as Merlin’s feet hit the last step, eyes flicking up at him. Merlin flinches, having clearly not seen Arthur, and Arthur doesn’t enjoy the twinge of guilt that flares at the loss of Merlin’s smile. Arthur pushes himself off the wall but uncrosses his arms, trying to be firm but not threatening. It’s not as if he doesn’t understand. But… Arthur clings to the tiny hope that one day he could court Guinevere openly, marry for love, even if it isn’t likely. For Merlin and Morgana, however, there is no hope at all. Morgana will have very little choice in who she’s married to, and the choice that Uther might allow her would only ever be between different noble options. He’d never let her be with a servant. Though Arthur would never dishonour Guinevere in such a way, if anyone found out about the two of them, only Guinevere would be disgraced. If someone found out about Merlin and Morgana… Morgana would be disgraced and Merlin would be executed. “The king would have your head if he found out and there’s no point denying it.”

To Merlin’s credit, he does manage to look legitimately confused. Arthur stops just shy of touching him, and waits for his response. “Denying what?”

Arthur’s eyes flicker over his face, reluctantly impressed with how Merlin’s mask doesn’t even flicker. “Your affections for the lady Morgana.” Arthur states, because there’s no point beating around the bush. To his surprise, Merlin’s confusion softens into a grin and he scoffs, turning away from Arthur like he thinks it’s just a joke.

“Right.”

“Take a bit of advice from someone who knows about women-” Arthur says, placing a hand on Merlin’s shoulder and attempting to be a little kinder. He wants Merlin to know he won’t tell his father, not when Merlin’s kept so many secrets for him, but that still doesn’t mean this can continue.

“If such a person existed, I would.” Merlin quips, and Arthur rolls his eyes, feels like shaking him. It is not an unusual feeling.

He continues as if Merlin hadn’t spoken. “Stick to girls who are more,” he casts his eyes around, “how can I put it,” he ends up catching Merlin’s eye as he finishes which makes what was supposed to be advice now seem mostly insulting, “on your level.”

Merlin looks so unimpressed that Arthur thinks he must be taking lessons from Gaius. “Thanks.” He says, not thankful in the slightest.

“She can’t be your friend,” Arthur says, and now when he looks away he’s not sure that he’s talking about Morgana anymore, “let alone anything else.”

He’s brought out of his reverie by Merlin. “Yeah. I know.” Despite that Arthur came here to caution Merlin, he’s getting the strangest feeling that Merlin is also cautioning him in return. And… And that now he’s not talking about Morgana _or_ Guinevere but… His relationship with Merlin. Arthur clicks his tongue, uncomfortable at how suddenly he’s lost the reins of this conversation, and of how aware he is of his own hand on Merlin’s shoulder that might have been there a little too long now he thinks about it.

Arthur pats Merlin’s shoulder in a friendly slap, imagining Leon in Merlin’s place, and jokes, “You can’t hide anything from me, Merlin.” He walks away to the sound of Merlin’s laughter.

Merlin watches Arthur go, wondering whether Arthur will address this whole strange conversation again when he finds out that Merlin really was just going to Morgana’s rooms to help her sleep, and his smile slowly dies as he thinks of Arthur’s parting statement. All his elation over the past day- about peeling open one of his layers to Morgana- fades as he remembers just how much he’s still lying to Arthur. The Merlin of a year ago would be incredulous in the face of the affection that warms his stomach when Arthur shows a hint of caring towards him, but, as Arthur said, there’s no point denying it now. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” Merlin whispers, to Arthur’s retreating back, wishing he lived in a world where he could repay the trust Arthur gives him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think!
> 
> Also the second to last scene of the canon episode where Arthur confronts Merlin was all fun and games until I was analysing exactly how they were stood so I could describe it and the way that Merlin's face completely drops after Arthur walks away is actually heartbreaking what the heck


	3. Lancelot and Guinevere (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur struggles with the hopelessness of his feelings for Gwen, Merlin thinks about being proactive in his destiny and Morgana and Gwen set out on a pilgrimage...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to write an entire chapter for the first 5 mins of this episode, honestly, I don't know how I managed this either

Arthur- in an event so surprising he is slightly concerned that sorcery has something to do with it- is awake before the sun has properly risen. It’s starting to paint the sky pink, blue chasing away the darkness, but still, as he judges it, has another hour before Merlin is supposed to come to wake him up, and that would be assuming Merlin was on time. Arthur considers this, and decides that if Merlin is on time today, he’ll start taking the possible sorcery threat seriously.

He knows that the reason he’s awake is his own thoughts, much as he’d prefer to blame something else. Every time he closes his eyes, he sees Guinevere’s face, not, actually the shy way she’d leaned into his kiss but the flushed, incensed expression she’d had when she’d called him out on his arrogance and rudeness. He was developing a habit of collecting people who were willing to call him out on things, despite having no plan to do so. Of course, Morgana’s always been brutally honest with him, but sometimes her comments bordered closer to cruel than critical. She’s probably why he gets defensive before he mulls things over, used to having to earn her respect by biting back just as hard.

With Merlin, he insults him back, and then playhouses with him like he’d do with the knights to take off the sting. There’s an understanding between the two of them that- most of the time- means they understand without needing to say it, that it’s in jest. Of course, sometimes Arthur takes it too far and actually hurts Merlin’s feelings, and sometimes Merlin says something so genuine that Arthur can’t respond with a joke. The latter times, much as Arthur will never let Merlin know, are possibly the proudest Arthur has ever been of himself. He knows it shouldn’t be true; that he should cherish the few times his father has told him he’s done well over the approval of his manservant, but Arthur can’t help it. Gaining Merlin’s praise doesn’t tear him apart like earning his father’s. Though, to be honest, sometimes Merlin hands out his praise at completely random times. There was the day after Arthur started to recover from the Questing Beast’s bite that Merlin told him he’d be happy to be his servant until the day he died, and Arthur thinks he still hasn’t recovered from the intensity of Merlin’s earnestness in that moment. He chalked it up to Merlin being genuinely concerned for Arthur’s life in the days previous, but there’s still something a little off about it.

With Guinevere though… It would be entirely inappropriate for Arthur to ruffle her hair or punch her in the shoulder; she might be a maidservant but she’s still a woman and Arthur knows himself to be chivalrous if nothing else. As he could not employ any of his usual methods to deal with being rightly chastised, he’d just stared at her in offended shock, unable to offer any rebuttal to what she said. Instead, he had to swallow his pride- more easily said than done- and apologise right then and there, which was possibly the only time he’d ever done that to anyone other than his father.

At least he still has Leon. Leon never insults him.

He’d been doing well at supressing everything but somehow the parallels between his situation and the strange tension between Merlin and Morgana- that he still hasn’t forgiven his manservant for not immediately explaining as helping her with a new sleep remedy or whatever; no matter how much he thinks Merlin’s excuse of _you wouldn’t have believed me until it was announced by your father_ was probably correct- reawakened all of the feelings he’d been trying to supress. He wished he’d had a chance to answer her, when she’d said _perhaps when you are King, things will be different_. Not that he has an answer; that’s probably why hasn’t tried to talk to her privately again since. Because things _will_ be different when he’s King; maybe more different than he ever thought they would be, but his father is in good health, and the truth is that Arthur receives more marriage propositions every year, and he knows that more likely than not they’ll be one he can’t get out of. One that would be so good for Camelot that he won’t want to. He’s the Crown Prince of Camelot and yet he can’t offer Gwen anything. Not grand romantic gestures, not even a visible friendship, not a future. The best he could give is secrecy and danger… And his heart.

It's not enough. And yet, he can’t stop thinking about her.

Despite Merlin’s absolute exhaustion, he’s happier than he’s been in quite a while. So happy, in fact, Gaius inquired as to whether he’d found a girl to court. The idea had made Merlin laugh so hard he’d cried, and Gaius had stared him as though he was off his rocker. Every minute of Merlin’s day- and a good chunk of his night- is planned. He has no time to be chasing a romance. Today marks a month since Merlin starting helping Morgana ‘meditate’ and to everyone’s surprise except the two of them, it appears to be working. Uther had even given him a strange nod the last time Merlin served Arthur at a feast, acknowledging his existence. Merlin thinks he might finally be forgiven for the whole drinking-poison-for-Arthur-and-almost-starting-a-war-with-Bayard incident.

Morgana, under Merlin’s direction, has managed to master lighting candles and putting them out with her magic. He’s now onto teaching her how to lock and unlock doors. He doesn't dare bring the book he has upstairs with him, not when he might get caught or Morgana might suggest leaving it with her which would both give her an opportunity to learn a spell he doesn’t want her to know, and also mean he won’t have it handy the next time he needs to solve a magical problem. He knows that she is still scared of her magic, and much as he wishes she wasn’t, the fear is in some ways calming. He cannot imagine a woman who is so cautious of the power in her veins becoming a monster.

Last night, they had barely done any magic at all, as Morgana had been in a foul mood after her weekly dinner with Uther. Apparently, Uther had brought up marriage prospects for her.

“I cannot believe him!” She’d fumed, pacing around the room, leading Merlin to watch her, bemused, from the table they usually sat at. “There are so, so few choices that women- especially Ladies- get to make about their lives, but he always promised me this would be one of them! Arthur can nobly turn down love to marry for duty if he wishes- but I will marry for love or I shall not marry at all! And considering the nature of all the eligible men I have met thus far, the latter seems far more likely!”

“If there’s one thing I don’t doubt, my Lady, it’s that he won’t be able to make you marry anyone you don’t want to.” Merlin offered, and the grin she’d sent his way had made his stomach clench.

He wasn’t sure what that meant.

He pushes it away at the same time as he pushed open the door to Arthur’s room, pouting when he sees Arthur is already awake. He at least hadn’t gotten out of bed yet, meaning he was unlikely to reprimand Merlin for his couple of minutes of tardiness. “Morning, Sire. You need to get up and dressed to see off Lady Morgana before her trip.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I think she’d manage if I didn’t.”

“If you don’t want to face her after those comments she made about your appearance two days ago, I’m sure everyone would understand-” Arthur’s pillow hits him in the face and Merlin grins unabashedly, pleased to have gotten a reaction from him. Merlin’s been wrestling for a while for a way to bring up magic in conversation with Arthur that wasn’t in a bad context, but also didn’t seem suspicious. So far, he’s got nothing. The more he learns from Morgana what little Uther has told them of magic, the more and more surprised he is that Arthur has been even slightly tolerant of it. Perhaps he is being irrationally optimistic because of his success with Morgana, but he doesn’t know how Arthur is ever going to lift the ban on sorcery if he doesn’t know anything about it. Perhaps, even more than protecting him, that’s what Merlin’s role in their shared destiny consists of.

There’s this part of him lately- and he’s not proud of it, truly- and he knows that it’s probably Morgana’s rage, Morgana’s fire, Morgana’s influence that’s fuelling it- but he can’t help the sparks of fury at Gaius. He loves the man, truly he does, but when Merlin thinks of how long he’s stood behind Uther Pendragon, all the people he hasn’t saved… It’s not like Merlin blames him for not wanting to risk the pyre, no, all of that blame lands where it deserves to be; on Uther’s shoulders, but Merlin can’t help but think that he would not have made the same choice. Perhaps he would have died for the foolishness of that choice but Merlin knows what it’s like to live with the pain of betraying people who trust you implicitly, and he can’t imagine the weight of all the people Gaius has- if not betrayed then- not helped.

He thinks often about his father, one of the few Gaius did help, not that it made any difference in the end. He thinks, wildly, about running away to find him, telling him that he has a son… But that’s where the idea always ends, because Merlin knows it’ll never happen. His father- if he’s alive- will never be pardoned by Uther, and Merlin cannot leave his destiny behind. He’s begrudgingly beginning to understand why his mother and Gaius never told him, but still, his letters to his mother have been terse, and he’s much more comfortable keeping secrets from Gaius now.

“Merlin, you’re a million miles away.” Arthur chides, swatting at Merlin’s hands that have lingered too long fastening his cloak around his neck. Merlin takes his hands off hurriedly, the backs of his knuckles brushing against the hollow of Arthur’s throat. For a moment, his fingers tingle, but he shakes it off with his usual dopey smile. Arthur clicks his tongue as he looks at himself in the mirror and shakes his head. “No, too formal. Get me my red leather jacket.” Merlin does as he says without complaint, and then follows after Arthur as he strides out the door, tugging on his jacket as he goes.

Arthur might not have wanted to get up early for this, but he does feel some sympathy for his adopted sister as he arranges her cloak on her horse. The last time she went to visit Gorlois’ grave, Tauren’s men had almost killed her and his father, and it must be awful to have that place of remembrance tainted for her. For a moment, he entertains the possibility of going with her- And then he catches eyes with Guinevere, stood by her own horse. In her eyes, he sees everything he’s feeling reflected back, and he knows that would be a terrible idea. He needs to stay away from her, for both their sake’s. He comes back round to Morgana’s side of the horse.

“I hope this trip isn’t too upsetting for you.” He offers her, sincerely. Despite still smarting from her mean comments earlier in the week, he knows she was being meaner than usual because it was coming up to this time of year. Twelve years since she’d lost her father and moved to Camelot’s palace.

“Thank you, Arthur.” She replied, voice soft, and Arthur nodded and stepped forward, addressing the knights accompanying them.

“Make sure you return to Camelot before dusk.”

“Yes sire.” Arthur gestured for them to go on, and held Gwen’s gaze until she turned back, staring after her until she was almost out of sight.

“Where are they going?” Merlin says, his voice slightly off because of the way he was using his neck to keep hold of the crossbow he was carrying. Arthur flicked his eyes over to him in time to see Merlin put down the shield, covered in arrows, that he was struggling to keep hold of, and felt a rush of amused fondness for his frie- manservant.

“Morgana’s going on a pilgrimage to her father’s grave.” Arthur answers, taking the crossbow off Merlin’s shoulder. Honestly, it was a wonder he didn’t manage to shoot his ear off. “Come on, you can pick those arrows out so I can shoot them at you all over again.”

“Joy.”

“You look troubled, Gwen.” Morgana says, mostly amused and not truly concerned. Gwen startles a little, clearly lost in thought. Once she registers the question, she smiles, and Morgana is stumped all over again by how beautiful her maidservant is. It’s honestly a mercy that she is the lady and Gwen the maid, because if Gwen had a chance to wear dresses as fine as hers, Morgana is sure she’d be overshadowed.

“I’m fine.” She dismisses.

Morgana isn’t convinced, arching an eyebrow. “You’re very secretive these days.” Perhaps it’s a little hypocritical of her, but Morgana has missed her friend this past month, with half an hour or so of their usual routine cut short by Merlin’s magic lessons. She hasn’t heard Gwen mention a man since her crush on Merlin had cooled, which is probably a good place to start her questioning. “I’m beginning to think there’s a man involved.”

Gwen scoffs, not meeting her eyes. “When do I get to meet any decent men?” It would be a fair point, and Morgana does laugh, but there’s something in Gwen’s tone that has her thinking that she might have been on the right track. Before she can push it further, there’s a war cry taken up on both sides of their party. Morgana looks up to see tens of bandits, raining down the hillside towards them. Bemusedly, she wonders whether she’ll ever get to visit her father’s grave without incident again. Before she can think straight, they’re upon them, and Morgana can’t work out where she should be looking, chaos reigning around them. She wishes, fiercely, that she was armed, sees some of the knights being taken down by moves she knows would never have worked against her.

“My ladies, you must follow me-” Calls one of the knights before being cut off by an arrow to the back. In the next moment, she’s being dragged from her horse, kicking and screaming, and from the sounds of it, they’re doing the same to Gwen.

Another knight mows down the people holding them, and Morgana catches sight of Gwen. “Gwen, head for the path. Go!” She starts running after her maid, hitching her skirts up over her ankles, cursing them and wishing she was back in the fighting leathers she’d worn to fight at Merlin’s village. They’re stopped though, by what appears to be the head of the bandits. Morgana’s terrified, wishing she knew more magic than just how to light candles and open doors, though she supposes the latter might be helpful if they get captured. She has to try her best to make sure they don’t get killed.

She hates having to invoke his name for their protection, but she will to save them both. “I warn you.” She says, hoping the tremble in her voice isn’t as loud to them as it is to her. “I am Uther Pendragon’s ward. He’ll have your heads if any harm comes to me.”

The bandit removes his mask, not looking impressed. “I have no intention of harming you, at least not yet.” Morgana risks a quick look around as a horse comes galloping past, but none of the knights are anywhere near them. “You’re much more valuable to me alive, Lady Morgana.” He faux-bows, smiling with a twisted sort of glee, and Morgana’s heart sinks in her chest as she realises this was no random attack. Their situation has just got even more precarious, and Morgana's sure their outcome doesn't look good.


	4. Lancelot and Guinevere (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgana escapes, but must leave Gwen behind and try to persuade Uther to rescue her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments that inspired to write today. My degree is kinda killing me slowly right now so I'm sorry for the irregularity of updates but hope you enjoy!

“He’s coming.” Morgana says, watching the leader of the party of brigands wander over to the tent they’ve put her and Gwen in. She glances back at her maidservant, hoping to sound strong and reassuring. They have one chance to pull off this plan, but Morgana believes in the two of them. Gwen doesn’t talk about it much, it’s too sore, but she knows Gwen used to practice sword-fighting with her brother Elyan before he left, and she herself used to outfight Arthur before her lessons were discontinued. Granted, that was over six years ago now and she’s a little rusty, but she won’t be doing anything as strenuous as what she already accomplished in Ealdor. Which… Speaking of, she really needed to bring up Merlin’s friend who had been a sorcerer with him. “You know what you must do?” Gwen nods, and Morgana lets go of the tent flap in time for the grisly man to pull it open again.

“I trust you are… Comfortable.” He leers, a smirk in his voice.

“I demand to know where you are taking us.” She says, fiercely, valiantly ignoring the way his gaze keeps dropping below her chin.

“You’ll find out soon enough. We have a long journey ahead of us. Get some rest.” He leaves their tent, slapping one of his men on the back, and with a final glance at Gwen, Morgana follows him out.

“I wish to bathe.” She says, suddenly, too low for the frightened unarmed woman she’s trying to portray. All of his men turn to look at her, and suddenly the fear is a lot easier to conjure.

“You wish to bathe.” He deadpans.

“I am the King’s ward,” She controls her voice, “and accustomed to certain standards.” She dredges up all of her spoilt princess mentality. “I’m sure you are quite contented to stink like a pig, but I am not.”

“The Lady Morgana wishes to bathe.” He spits, and then his smirk exposes all his grimy teeth. “Who wants to help me guard her?” The other men erupt into jeers, and Morgana tries her best to hide the disgust from her face. Still he’s taken the bait. The two of them will wait until the opportune moment and then overwhelm their guards and make a run for it. Morgana has no interest in finding out why she’s been targeted for a kidnapping.

Arthur is out of his mind with worry, and he knows Merlin can sense it. Hopefully his father will have chalked it up as concern for Morgana; and he is concerned for her, but they hadn’t found Morgana and Guinevere’s bodies with the knights and guards, instead a ransom note. In a kidnapping, Morgana will fare much better than her maidservant. They have no real reason to keep Guinevere alive, and that thought has consumed him. His only hope is that they might think his father will pay extra for Guinevere; they’d be wrong, but at least that’s a chance.

Arthur starts at the sound of a branch crunching under someone’s feet as they follow the tracks, stilling with hunter’s instincts. He swaps his sword out for a crossbow, darting forwards to catch whoever is running towards them by his surprise. He jumps out from behind the tree only to find Morgana, clad in just her underdress, muddy with scrapes on her forehead. He lowers the crossbow, looks around her, and sees a conspicuous absence. “Where’s Guinevere?” He asks, and his heart plummets to his stomach at the way Morgana’s eyes well-up as she shakes her head.

“How could you let her escape?!” The leader of the bandits snarls, kicking a pot across the fire. Gwen watches him warily, kept to her knees by two other bandits flanking her either side. She’d put up a fairly good fight- in her humble opinion- considering her ankle was either badly sprained or outright broken, but she’d been overwhelmed. Her heart thunders in her chest, but there’s a small ember of warmth, knowing her Lady had gotten away. Gwen’s not sure if she believes in the old gods or the new ones, in destiny or fate- Lady Morgana taught her how to read but she’s hardly learned enough to start philosophising on the existence of gods- but she still thanks whatever higher power might be out there every day that she became the maidservant of Lady Morgana. The money allows her to contribute to the family funds so they don’t struggle even with the loss of Elyan, but mostly it’s an honour, and though Gwen knew there were still lines of propriety between them, she cared deeply for her Lady and knew that affection was returned. In Lady Morgana she had found not only a kind, ambitious, admirable Noble, but also a dear friend. If the bandits kill her now, she will be happy to have died in her Lady’s service.

“You bring me this servant!” The man screams, gesturing towards her, and Gwen flinches back despite herself, averting her eyes in the way she learnt quickly to do so in court, to avoid the lecherous looks of certain noble men or risk angering some of them who had no leash on their tempers. Merlin, much as she adored her friend, was absolutely hopeless at it. “She is worthless to us!”

Gwen’s breaths quicken as he strides towards her. _Worthless_. This is it then. The end of the road. He grasps her chin roughly, tilting her head back and forth. Is he trying to bare her neck for the blade? “Here.” He says, letting go of her and grabbing something from the man behind her. He shoves a bundle of clothes into her chest which she grasps instinctively, knowing from a glance that these are Lady Morgana’s abandoned clothes from the river. “Put them on.”

Put them on? “What are you going to do with me?” She asks, confused and terrified. Does he mean to parade her around in Lady Morgana’s clothes before he kills her? What kind of horrible sadist is he?

“Hengist has never met the Lady Morgana. For all he knows, you could be Uther Pendragon’s ward.” Gwen feels her face blanch. She is to pretend to be a Lady? This is madness! The bandits are not killing her now only to lead her to a worse demise. Hysterically, she thinks that she’d better not mention the kiss she shared with Arthur or there are about to be some very strange rumours spreading.

“I will not impersonate my mistress.” Her voice is breathier than she’d like it, but she’s proud of the conviction. He unsheathes his sword, places it under her chin.

“Then you will die where you stand.” Lady Morgana will have made it back to Camelot. She’ll have made it back to Arthur- _Prince_ Arthur, and Gwen has to hope he will come for her. That even if their kiss was a cruel hope from an impossible future, that he cares for her enough to come anyway. And if he doesn’t- if he can’t- Gwen knows Morgana and Merlin will. It would be an honourable death- but it would be a better life. She just has to give them the time to get to her.

Morgana strides over to Uther who starts to get out of his throne at her approach. She knows the scrapes on her face are still not well tended to but as soon as she was clad in proper clothes again- having explained loudly and clearly to Arthur what had happened by the river; she had no interest in rumours starting about her maiden status- she demanded to be taken straight to Uther. Thankfully, Arthur agreed with her for once- and what is with him right now, he looks like he’s barely keeping his composure, she’ll have to tease him for his concern over her later- and so they went straight to the throne room.

She’s suddenly even more glad for that dinner she had with Uther to trick him into releasing the prisoners after the fire, because it means she’s currently on his good side. “It is such a relief to see you safe.” He grasps her hands, and then immediately cups the unhurt side of her face. “I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone harming you.”

She turns her face into the comfort despite knowing she’ll hate herself for it later. Being angry with him would be so much easier if she held less affection for him. “The bandits still have Gwen.” She says, getting to the point, knowing Gwen might not have much time.

“We believe they were Mercian.” Arthur adds, strongly, Merlin coming to stand by his side. “We’ve received reports that _Hengist_ has crossed the border.”

“Hengist?” Uther says, his voice oddly flat.

“You must send a rescue party.” Morgana urges, unable to keep the panic about her friend’s fate out of her voice, despite knowing that Uther rarely responds well to emotional pleas.

Uther is already shaking his head, and to his credit, he does look sorry about it. “If Hengist is holding her, it would take a small army to rescue your maid.” She doesn’t understand the way he’s staring at her like he’s trying to memorise the details of her face, until she realises that he’s thinking about her being in Gwen’s position. Morgana feels her knees weaken.

“We can’t abandon her!”

“How many men would you have me sacrifice to save a servant?” He asks, in that condescending tone she hates, the one that makes her stomach boil.

“As many as it takes.” She hisses, her rage getting the better of her now. She knows she needs to cool off if she wants a chance at winning a battle of words with Uther, but Gwen doesn’t have that time. She forcibly swallows it down, tries a different tactic. “Gwen gave herself up so that I might escape.” It is stretching the truth, a little, Gwen did tell her to leave her behind but only because she couldn’t walk. She appeals to his honour. “I owe her my life.”

Uther breaks eye contact with her, turning away. “She did so willingly and she will be honoured for it.” Morgana knows it is a dismissal but she won’t stand for it, following him as he tries to turn his back on her.

“I don’t want her honoured, I want her rescued!” She grabs his arm and turns him back, which might have been the biggest mistake she’s made all afternoon, and that includes leaving Gwen behind. Uther glances around the court, and Morgana lowers her voice to a plea. “She is more than just my maid.” She tries to force him into eye contact with her, insists that he refuses her while meeting her gaze, so that he cannot hide from his judgement condemning a heroic woman to death. “She is my friend.”

Morgana’s voice cracks as she thinks about the flowers Gwen brings her most days, the hours she spent untangling Morgana’s hair with gentle strokes of a brush before a big party, the little self-conscious laugh she did when she’d realise she’d been talking about blacksmithing for too long, a laugh Morgana would immediately brush off, telling her friend _go on_. Morgana, admittedly, didn’t care much for the art of making swords, only wielding them, but she loved watching the way Gwen- usually so articulate, quiet Gwen- would let excitement trip up her words. Morgana refuses to believe she’ll never get to see that again.

Uther sighs. “A servant is of no value to these bandits.” Morgana knows what he’s going to say but she can’t stand it even if he’s right- “I fear she is dead already.”

She shakes her head, abruptly furious, denial fuelling her. The silence in the hall stretches for a second while she unlocks her tongue, waiting for someone else to contradict him. “No!” She snatches her arms away from Uther. “We cannot give up hope.” She glances around, wildly, landing on her adopted brother. He’s wearing his court face, the one she had almost forgotten was a mask until Merlin came along and she remembered what Arthur’s real smile was like. She holds onto that memory, holds onto Merlin saying that Arthur is a good man, isn’t his father. “Arthur,” She says, tremulous, “I’m begging you.” She doesn’t know what she’s expecting him to do, but she knows she’d support him with whatever he wanted Uther to do if Merlin had been kidnapped. Not that she thinks Arthur would ever admit Merlin is his friend. “You have to do something.”

“My father’s right.” Arthur says strongly, also refusing to look at her, his neck long and proud, and perhaps for the first time ever she _hates him_. “I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.” She sees him swallow before he looks at her, apple bobbing in his throat, and she wants to lunge at him, scream and try and claw her nails into his eyes like she used to as a child when he’d broken one of her dolls. _How could you?_ She wants to yell. _You fought with her in Ealdor! What happened to the ‘bonds between those who bleed together do not easily break’_?

“How can you say that?” She snarls, instead, “How can you live with yourselves?” She isn’t really seeing anyone that she looks at as she moves back into the middle of the room. If they’re not crying out in Gwen’s defence then they are worthless to her. She allows Gaius to lead her away, but gets in a final parting shot. “All of you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How have I managed to write this many words and still have the vast, vast majority of the episode left??? Will Lancelot make an appearance in the next chapter?? Who knows


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